


senseless drabble to chase away the isolation

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale in Lingerie (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Food Kink, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Mutual Non-Con, Oral Sex, Other, Praise Kink, Sexual Fantasy, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), excessive miracles, likely going to go un-updated, this is rather pointless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23404486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Multiple instances in which a demon Crowley and an angel Aziraphale participate in the most unholy of acts.Taking requests to write a short drabble of what kink you’d like best.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), The Bentley & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey there. first time posting.   
> these are short and inconsistent. i’m used to roleplaying.   
> in fact, i’d love to role play, just leave me a comment and i’ll contact you. :)

It was simple, it felt ridiculous, and it was beginning.

Aziraphale sits in the sheets, translucent silk covering the majority of his pale skin. The bottoms are ones Crowley had picked out for him, in the quaint Soho shop, and they fit his thighs loosely. Powered pink and whites and silky black on his plush figure. They’re loose — loose enough to allow Crowley’s fingers to slip in and coax at his dripping sex. 

He had been bound in black ribbon, his wrists stuck together with soft material and his ankles pressed tightly joined. He sits on his knees with his legs forced open, his chest heaving with unnecessary breathing.

It’s his second orgasm of the night and he’s already soaked through the precious silk. 

“Yes, angel. Like that,” Crowley instructs into his ear, devilish fingers stroking an endless pattern against his clit. Aziraphale’s thighs spasm and twitch and he complains behind the silk shoved in his mouth, but nothing stops the fingers that have been torturing him.   
“You look lovely, don’t you? Yes, mm, I think you look nice in black, angel. It’s goes with the whole ‘debauched’ look.” 

The angel cries behind his gag, and it dawns on the poor thing that it’ll be a delightfully long night.


	2. the angel and the contraption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this one is a tad abrupt. i wrote it in only ten minutes. i’m rather distracted by animal crossing.  
> requested by Shouty Boi

They’d never used toys.

Granted, Aziraphale wasn’t sure this — contraption should count as a toy. Living in Soho, it hadn’t been uncommon to see a phallic object, perhaps a silicon variation of a woman’s lesser known regions. Then, Aziraphale had thought those things silly and dauntless. He hadn’t a use for them. He had Crowley — and Crowley gave him what he pleased with a snap of his fingers.

Naturally, his outlook on sexual assortments changed once he had begun to use them.  
It seems they’re starting big. Rather big. 

The aforementioned angel sits atop a leather base now, thick silicon pushing deeper and deeper between glistening folds. The terrible thing vibrates, he had found out, and it had already given him an orgasm before he could do much as lift his hips. The attachment to it — the cock, as Crowley likes to put it — is thick rather than long. It spreads Aziraphale out nicely. Spreads his slick against the leather when he finally does begin to ride it, with encouragement from Crowley. 

“Ssslow, dove,” Crowley hisses at his ear, forked tongue licking at the sensitive lobe.  
“You’ve already cum so quickly, haven’t you? Couldn’t muster five minutes on this cock, could you?” 

The ginger’s hands sit on Aziraphale’s hips. Sharp nails bite at his skin when Crowley squeezes him, forces him down on the thick toy and up again. He sets a slow pace, matching the low setting on the vibration aspect of it.  
“Crowley,” Aziraphale simpers, but that’s all he can manage out. Is he expected to beg? Aziraphale does not beg. He doesn’t have to... no, it’s an ask-and-you-shall-receive relationship. There’ll be no begging this time. 

Perhaps next.  
“Hush, angel. None of that fussing tonight. We go at my pace.” Crowley murmurs, finally shuffles where Aziraphale can see him and he moans, watches Crowley eye him up slowly. He must be a pretty sight — cum and slick stringing between his thighs with a mess, love bites against his throat, red blooming down his cheeks and along his chest.  
“Oh, look at you.. aren’t always neat, are you, then?” He drags a finger through the angel’s slick folds, drawing a distressed whine from the blond. “This cunt is going to be loose and soaking before I’m to let you up from this. You’ll get my cock when I think you’re ready. No more catering to your needs, you spoiled angel. Not tonight.”

Angel cries for him at that. Lets out the most terrible “oh” when Crowley forces him to regain his slow pace, rocking down against the vibrating cock and left entranced when Crowley begins speaking again. Such a filthy mouth! Terrible, even for a demon. His thighs squeeze at the leather between him, when the vibrations are set up another two notches, kicking him into a high mewl of “Crowley!” 

When all is said and all is done, Aziraphale cums five times. Four on the sybian, as it’s called, and once on both of Crowley’s cocks afterwards. Gets treated to a mug of cocoa and a heated blanket over his aching cunt as Crowley cleans the dripping cum from the fake dick and leather base attached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are encouraged!


	3. antique lace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is more of a starter from an old role play i did. i don’t talk to the partner anymore, so i see no issue in posting this, too.   
> i might write a continuation of it.

Aziraphale walks, his arm tucked neatly against his demon counterpart, with the uppermost innocent smile he can muster. This, of course, means the angel has something far less than chaste in mind. It had been an idea for weeks now, yes, a concept that had been brewing since two months ago. 

It had taken so long only for his nerves and his perfectionist personalities, collectively. He wanted this scenario to be perfect and now, he’s sure it is. 

When he unlocks the door to his bookshop his smile seems to grow into something mischievous. The doors open and there, in the near distance, candlelight glows in his living quarters of the shop. There’s dozens of red and white candles littered everywhere, miracled to be undripping and nonthreatening after his shop incident, and on the sofa lay an abundance of blankets. 

It looks far more innocent compared to the true results of the night — for Aziraphale wears his loveliest undergarments beneath his slacks, his alabaster skin covered in lace and sheer material. A hint of such results show when he toes his shoes off, the white lace of his silken stockings covering his feet. 

It doesn’t have to be for sex, it can quite be for show, but...  
Well, his intentions are for tempting.


	4. softer arrangements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, comments make me giddy!  
> please feel free to leave one, or request most anything you’d like!

“The cocoa,” Aziraphale chides, gives Crowley that fussy look as he sits prettily on the worn sofa. Its springs have long since weakened and the material of it is stained with an assortment of fillings, teas, snacks, and.. bodily fluids.   
They’ve aided to creating new stains tonight. At least, Aziraphale has. 

With the reminder, Crowley snaps his fingers and a generous mug of cocoa sits between the angel’s dainty fingers. It’s not like he can do much, really. He’s trapped cuddled between those fat thighs Aziraphale hosts. The damn bastard has spent him the last hours, asking so nicely to be spoiled.  
“Please, Crowley, just one more?”  
“Oh — oh, my, yes! Harder, please!”   
“Would you be a dear and fetch my bloomers for me? I’m quite dripping.”

God. Certainly a spoiled angel, he is. They’ve been snogging in bed since noon, and then Aziraphale’s damned horny side had revved up, and Crowley just can’t say no to such a lovely pout. Three goddamned orgasms in two hours — two hours of Crowley working his fingers and his mouth on Aziraphale’s clit, having to fuck his angel until the blonde was babbling and crying on his cock.

Hedonist, Aziraphale is. It’s delightful.

The point is, Crowley is beat, and he can’t think of anywhere else he’d like to lay than between fat, holy thighs. His head rests on that gut of the angel’s — soft and cushioning. Aziraphale runs his fingers idly through a ginger mess as the other holds his cocoa.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale says, and it’s the sixth time today. He scratches lightly at Crowley’s scalp.   
“Thank you, my darling. I feel lovely after all of that. You’re such a good, lovely husband to me. I couldn’t have asked Her for better. Truly.”

The praise must go to Crowley’s head, for he isn’t even upset with Aziraphale anymore. Not that he really was in the beginning..   
Looking after a fussy angel is irritating, yeah, but after a long 6,000 years of waiting, Crowley has already proclaimed he’d do anything to keep his angel happy. Aziraphale can’t be blamed if he takes advantage of that.   
“We’ll get you to bed, then.” He says instead, lifts his head to peer at Aziraphale with serpentine pupils.   
“Spent the whole day snoggin’ and shagging, dove — wasted the daylight. It’s my bedtime.” 

When they do move, when they are tucked into Aziraphale’s creaky old mattress, suffocated with old quilts and worn comforters, Crowley is the last to settle in.   
Too busy nosing up Aziraphale’s clit, to sleep, really. One last orgasm before bed. 

Spoiled angel.


	5. dusted mornings, of patient demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ahh this is so terribly late.   
> and unfinished!  
> but i didn’t want to wait any longer, so i figured i may as well post what i have done. perhaps i’ll post a second part with true smut?   
> resquested by foxtamer113. terribly sorry :(

Normally, it was a romp in the sheets. A quick, hurried entanglement of limbs as they’d rush to get off quickly. Going slow wasn’t particularly common, not in a relationship that had been suppressed since the beginning of Earth and its inhabitants. They had to make up for lost time, of course. Find a way to experience everything they hadn’t in the last 6,000 years, which might have included visiting previous eras to.. well, reconstruct a few scenes, act out hypotheticals of what they might had done back there, if, they’d been together. Roleplay. 

Though, this morning, there had been none of that. No rushing, no ragged breath on the back of Aziraphale’s neck, no nails scraping at his bed clothes, just..   
Just a lazy figure squished against his backside with sticky fingers pressing at his arsehole.

Aziraphale’s sleepy smile makes its appearance immediately once he’s conscious enough to take in the situation.

“Good morning,” his voice would come out, soft and crackled with sleep.   
“And, Crowley, I do mean good. What’s the occasion, darling?”  
The two fingers stop momentarily before Crowley is sighing out against the nape of his neck and pressing a nipped kiss to the thick skin there. One finger, sudden, dips into him if not only a little.

“No occasion, angel. Woke up hard, and then I saw your plush ass, and.. does things to me, this arse.”  
It seems Crowley has been awake a while, then. In any other morning conversation, it would consist almost exclusively of grumbled complaints and huffed disgruntlements. Neither of them were morning people, really, so it does come as a bit of a surprise to hear Crowley so awake.   
“Been circling your hole for an hour now — ‘m’teasing myself on it. You looked so nice when you slept, I didn’t want to wake you.” 

Ah. Terribly considerate. Always one to take in these things, wherein any situation lead by Aziraphale, he would be pressing at a sleeping Crowley for ages trying to wake him. It isn’t often the mood strikes for Azi and Aziraphale only, but when it does, he has the bad habit of incessantly bugging Crowley to get him off. Greedy, he supposes. Indulgent in his own desire. 

Even so, he can’t feel guilty with those fingers at him.   
“Oh, thank you, dear,” He sighs out, the noise feathery when he finally comes out with it. His eyes open — utterly blue and green and brown all at once, almost golden in the light coming from the window. He can see the dust particles floating about in the rays. The shop could do for some spring cleaning.   
“What a darling you are, waiting.. I suppose you should ah, get on with it? After all, you have waited so terribly patiently for me, Crowley.” 

And then there’s that familiar intrusion, that push into where he’s already loosened and inviting. One finger inside him, first, but then the second only a moment later, and Crowley is searing kisses at the back of his neck. One hand stays knuckle-deep inside him, the other wanders, over the roll of his hip, below the soft of his waist, and down to slip at the inside of his thighs. Thick thighs. Heavy. Warm, even with Crowley’s chilled fingers pressing bruises into them. Always possessive in a way. Gentle, but marking, and sturdy. Perhaps marking his territory? 

There’s a honeyed noise from his throat, the quiet “dear me,” as he bares his neck for that who isn’t in front of him. Even so, Crowley has moved his lips towards the swell of his throat, although the awkward angle could be considered uncomfortable. Aziraphale gets the blessed opportunity to see his husband in his peripheral — that blazingly red hair and those yellow eyes. Gorgeous. Glowing in this light, all of him. 

“Right. Yes, ‘ve’earned all this,” He murmurs, hissing on the ‘s’, pulls at Aziraphale’s thigh until the angel has to hike it up in the sheets.   
“Show yourself for me then. You’re not shy, angel, you’ve never been shy.” 

Crowley is right, of course he’s right, and Aziraphale feels it only fair he comply with the words. Lewd as they may be. His hiked leg comes even higher, further up, drawing his knee up until the leg is at a proper ninety degree angle and a stretch resounds in his muscles.   
“Yes, dear. Very good?”  
A question, since he doesn’t know precisely what he wants, and he doesn’t need Crowley’s fussing at this hour. 

Which is a preference short lived.   
“Mm, sure, angel, if that’s all you got in you.” Crowley sounds teasing in a way — challenging. Aziraphale finds himself too tired to want to prove the wily demon wrong. Let the ginger have his fun, even if it is mean spirited in Aziraphale’s favour. Or, perhaps, disfavour.

**Author's Note:**

> requests? accepted.  
> comments? encouraged.


End file.
